The 5 Steps To Freedom
by Lowland Warrior
Summary: Scarlett's been incarcerated for her death threats on Total Drama Pahkitew Island. After several years of doing time, she's slowly beginning to lose the will to live. Then someone offers to help her. But does Scarlett even wants to be helped? T for whining and themes among other things later on. This story is complete!
1. Samey

**The 5 Steps To Freedom**

**Here's another small side-project caused by procrastination!**

**I was wondering: What would happen to Scarlett after Total Drama Pahkitew Island? Hostage taking is a serious offense! She'd be sent to jail, definitely. And then she'd be there. Alone. Defeated. Humiliated. You get the idea from the dramatic monologue! But then someone's sent to help her! Who you ask? Read to find out!**

**Please note though that I have little knowledge of either Canadian laws and or prison therapy. So please beg you, be a little tolerant of any inaccuracies!**

**Like the title hints, I plan to make this a 5 chapter story.**

**Everything is from Scarlett's point-of-view and I hope I get her personality right as it would be after several years of prison.**

**Rated T for whining and mentioned themes.**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Samey.**

* * *

It's been 7 years. 7?

Yes. 7 years since I was trialed for taking the Total Drama Pahkitew Island cast hostage in exchange for the million dollar main price. Total Drama, I wish I never heard of it. Sigh. I joined, convinced that I'd win it to buy me into any university I wanted. And that would've happened if everybody would've realized what a liability Max was and voted him off! I grit my teeth and pant heavily. I still get furious when I think of that…gnome! He was a complete no-good dipstick who just HAD to execute 1 great plan to capture me just as I was going to get the money! Then I was shot out of the Cannon of Shame, with Max.

And that would only be the least humiliating thing happening to me for a while.

I was taken into custody and my family got me a lawyer. But not just some lawyer! I happened to get Courtney Ochoa, attorney from Goodman & Hutz! Yes! THE Courtney Ochoa! Better known as Total Drama's Miss C.I.T! I was sure that Chris was behind Courtney becoming my defendant as additional salt in the wound. [1]

Courtney was fresh out of college and looking for ways to make a name for herself. I didn't care, my death threats were broadcasted over international TV, I've calculated that there was a 99.5 percent of prosecution. Courtney was still way too ambitious. Then the day of the trial came…

It became a blatant show trial.

The media couldn't stop gossiping about it and I was forced to hear every contestant of Total Drama Pahkitew Island testify in the courtroom about how much of a monster I was, even Leonard. Who I never even talked to. They could say everything they wanted and, let it be that Newton invented graffiti or that Edward Grieg was a vampire. The jury believed it. If Topher was the prosecutor and Chef Hatchet the judge, the scene would've been complete (The judge did look like him though). Courtney made a fool out of herself by stubbornly defending me despite everything being crystal clear. I remained quiet, and admittingly, I had to repress the urge to cry. [2]

When the trial was finally over, I was sentenced to 14 years on accounts of hostage taking. I was declared insane when I undertook the hostage and they were sure that I would've blown the island up. I was 17 back then, first I was sent to juvenile hall. It wasn't so bad there, all kinds of cocky punks who were only there because of their reputation. Mess a little with their minds, assure them no one loves them and voilá! They leave you to be for the rest of your sentence.

After 2 years, I was of age to come here, an all-women maximum-security prison somewhere in Ontario. The food was bad, the cell not much better, the fellow inmates were mostly psychopaths, child murderers and such (Unlike me, I was just released a big pileup of frustration back on the island), and while the prospect of a prison library sounded nice, if it are only a few shelves mostly containing self-help books, then you're quickly done there.

But the showers were the absolute worst. I got more intimate with some of the other inmates than I wanted to be, if you get what I'm aiming at.

So…Here I lay on my prison bed, Scarlett Neuer, 24 earth rotations young and world infamous. So far my wishes of getting into any renowned university now everyone has seen what they think to be the real me. I don't know what I'm going to do with my life after I'm out. But I've got 6 years 11 months and 29 days left to consider the very few options I have left. People are going to forget me now, but once I'm free, they'll find me again. I think I'm going to take my umpteenth nap today, which is among the only sensible things to do in this 3 square meters' cell.

''Neuer.'' A warden calls, knocking on the door just as I began to doze off. I groan miserably and take a look at the small hatch of the door opening up. As part of the procedure, I stick my hands through to get cuffed. They open the door and take me along. I'm not going to ask what they're going to do, I'll get to know what's going to happen in due time, so I don't have to waste a trivial question to it to these guards.

* * *

The guards guide me to a room I haven't been before, it was pretty nicely furnished, at least for the standards I've adjusted to the last few years. There was a lounge chair and a few cheap looking arm chairs.

''Lay down.'' 1 of the wardens ordered me.

''If it makes you sleep at night.'' I indifferently replied as I laid down on the lounge chair. I noticed that over the years I've began to lose my emotions, something I attribute to the humiliation of that show trial and the less than stellar prison life. It needs to be really emotional for me to be moved.

''She can come in.'' 1 guard said something through her radiotelephone. A few seconds later, the door opened and it was that I already laid with my head in that direction or else I wouldn't have bothered looking. But who I saw coming was really the biggest surprise I had these last few years.

It was Samey.

In the face she still looked the same, and she still had her hair down. As expected from someone her age, she had traded that degrading cheerleader outfit for a more representative looking brown jacket with tan pants. She looked more confident in the way how she walked to 1 of the arm chairs and sat down, laying out several files on her lap all the while I stare at her, confused.

''What is the meaning of this?'' I confusedly ask everyone as I honestly couldn't place for what reason she'd be here.

''On account of your good behavior lately, I was assigned to lead your therapy that could see your early release from prison.'' Samey formulated.

''A bit too coincidental that it has to be you out of all people right?'' I suspiciously asked as I shot up from the chair (Being reminded that I still have my handcuffs on) and glared at her, putting the guards in the room on standby. ''Are you even a qualified psychologist?''

''Yes I am!'' Samey confidently answered while she dug through a file and showed me a paper that looked like a genuine degree certificate. How could she get a degree in psychology and not me? I became a little envious of her.

''Can we leave you with her?'' One of the wardens asked. Samey nodded and the guard promptly undid my handcuffs. I rub my wrists as the guards leave the room and shut the door, presumably locking it. I look up to Samey, she puts her certificate away and eagerly looks at me for a few seconds. I really don't want to go through this. For multiple reasons. Why was Samey here? There are millions psychologists, why did this one had to be assigned to me? I don't trust her nor this whole therapy at all. What if I succeed and get released early? The whole world will be on my heels again, eagerly waiting what misdeed I'll do next. I wish I was back in my cell, and I should do something about that.

''Shall we begin Scarlett?'' Samey suggested, breaking the silence.

''That's a good idea Samey.'' I indifferently replied.

''Actually, It's Samantha now.'' Samey corrected me.

I raise an eyebrow. She blew me off that easily? She has really matured. I need to try something else to talk my way back to my cell.

''So, we both know why you're here.'' Samey said.

''Yes. Because I threatened to kill everyone present on that island. That is a crime. And so is identity theft.'' I countered. I could see irritation building up in Samey. Excellent, a little while longer and she'll get angry with me and I'll be sent back to my cell. ''But because you had the dumb luck of actually succeeding, you got away with it.'' I continued explaining.

''I got away with it because I didn't hurt anyone with it!'' Samey defended herself.

''Except for Amy.'' I replied, she didn't like it that I brought her sister up. Time to exploit that. ''How's she doing by the way? Are you still so incredibly close as you were years ago?'' I asked her.

''Amy doesn't matter right now!'' Samey agitatedly called.

''Is she perhaps the reason why you began studying psychology? Because you have experience being mentally dominated?'' I guessed. Samey growled in frustration and I calmly smiled, I had achieved my goal.

''Perhaps we should stop.'' Samey grumpily concluded. I saw her pressing the button of a device she had hidden inside her jacket and the guards came into the room and took me away. I felt satisfied, now I'll be left alone until my release, which will be devoid of sensation seeking journalists from poor tabloid magazines.

''Until next session Scarlett!'' She begrudgingly called after me before the door closed. My satisfaction faded as I heard her say that. I have to go through this again? Again?!

Getting Samey out of my life might be going to take a while.

* * *

**R.I.P victims of the July 18 plane crash. Nothing needs to be said, everything of it is just terrible.**

**[1] Goodman & Hutz refers to Saul Goodman, a lawyer from Breaking Bad and Lionel Hutz, a lawyer from The Simpsons.**

**[2] Did you find the hidden Twilight reference in that paragraph? **

**So, did you like this side project? I hope you did!**

**;B),**

**L.W.**


	2. Sanity

**The 5 Steps To Freedom**

**What? Another update? I'm farting them out like I have a bad case of the runs!**

**Applause2014: Why thank you!**

**Curcle: Isaac Newton discovered gravity. Who invented the concept of graffiti, I don't know. But it surely wasn't Isaac Newtown (Imagine someone like him spraypainting in a shady alley)!**

**Kaylabow: Like I PM'ed you before, no there won't be any Scax. Sorry about that. But their relationship will be spoken about in a future chapter.**

**Frank15: But Chris has the moo-lah (Which Scarlett didn't get) to buy himself out!**

**Scorpionking17: I'd rather not have your (Or anyone's) OC in this story. Not only doesn't it fit, but only you (The creator of the OC) knows best how he/she has to function!**

**Nerdynightstocker: Well, you know Canadians, they're too well behaved to be corrupt like that (According to the stereotype guide at least)! But the law firm's a different story! I already have a sweet connection between them and Chris in mind!**

**I'm sorry if this chapter looks a bit, dull, but the few events and mentions are very important for the course of the story. So I hope you keep that in mind if you're feeling a bit dissatisfied, but other than that I promise that everything mentioned now and in the previous chapter will be resolved eventually.**

**I quick warning, I might chance the title of the story as it isn't as fitting as I once thought it was.**

**I don't like tea, but T is still is the rating for this story.**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Sanity**

* * *

I looked out of my cell's window. Between the bars and through the thick, murky glass I could see the sky clouding over. It looked like it was going to rain but no one without meteorological equipment could determine whether it indeed was going to. this uncertainty also reflects my current mood.

It has been a few days since the first therapy session, and I spent most of my time thinking about a solution to this conundrum. To get rid of the therapy I have to get rid of the therapist, but I have no idea how. I tried reopening old wounds, but Samey was surprisingly immune for that and this time she'll definitely be prepared for it.

I lightly bang my head on the wall, I feel a little ashamed that I can't find a solution for this problem, I, the daughter of a renowned nuclear engineer and a high-ranking astronautic, can't solve a problem. I'd be the laughing stock of the boarding school I used to attend.

Several suggestion runs through my mind. Should I perhaps go along with the therapy? I considered it for a second but I shook my head in denial. No, I calculated the chances of Samey being randomly assigned and they are just too low for me to trust her. Someone paid that law firm to assign Courtney to me, they can do that to Samey just the same, I am 100 percent positive of that. and if they care about the money, then they can't possibly care about my wellbeing as well.

I sigh deeply and sit down on my bed as I keep on looking for solutions. Qualms and feelings of dread, both of which I haven't felt for quite some time, are washing over me. I'm pulled out of my brainstorm as a warden knocks on the door.

''Neuer.'' The warden calls. I sigh deeply and resolutely stand up. Let's get this over with

* * *

I'm cuffed and 2 wardens are guiding me towards the room. On the way, a female imam (That's what you call a Islamic preacher I believe) crosses us carrying some things used for the sermon. They probably used the same room I'm being brought to, a lot of the inmates are religious (With many, that's probably what benefits their craziness) and this prison lacks a chapel for safety reasons. I myself am not religious at all. I stick to the facts.

We enter the room and I'm brought to lay on the lounge chair. Samey was already there, smiling and writing on her papers like our last meeting didn't happen. I wish it indeed didn't. The last few days I've done almost nothing but thinking, close to worrying about how to get rid of Samey and she just sits there! Talk about contrasts! She's either very loyal to her job, or paid to be, which if the latter is true, would confirm my suspicions.

''I'm going to take a slightly different approach today.'' Samey announced as she laid her paper down.

''Go ahead.'' I responded as I kept on staring to the asbestos ceiling panels. As I said that, I noticed that I eased down a little.

Samey got a clipboard and a pen. ''How was your childhood?'' She asked.

Great, she's going through all my stages of life.

''Pretty average I'd say. I got all the love from my parents I needed.'' I answered. Samey raises an eyebrow and shoots a suspicious glare at me as if she knows that I was lying.

My parents were mostly working, they still are. Mom has only visited me once this year, her excuse being that she was transferred to Cape Canaveral to work at the NASA launch site. Because they were away so often, I was stuck at home with a bothersome older brother and a nanny. Wasn't I happy when I was enrolled into boarding school. I haven't seen dad in all these years I've been locked up in here. I think he's ashamed of me. Well, if he doesn't want to be my father anymore, good riddance.

''Did you have any violent tendencies?'' Samey inquired, pointing her pencil at me.

''No recurring tendencies.'' I should be careful of what I answer right now, before I know it I'll get the psychopath label unjustly for a second time.

''And what do you mean by that?'' Samey kept on asking a little confused.

''Sometimes having a fight with my older brother, but that's about it.'' I explained.

''The same brother that got scared to death by the RC toys you programmed to attack him?'' Samey asked for clarification. I turn my head and glare at her, did she had to bring that up? The confessionals of Total Drama weren't as confidential as they were made out to be. I wish I never stepped into it.

''Yes.'' I replied darkly. I never use violence to get back at someone, mostly because I'm not strong. I usually humiliate or scare the wits out of them as means of revenge. They don't have to know it was me, seeing the results are satisfying enough.

''Alright.'' Samey mumbled, sounding and looking as if she was a little intimidated. ''Did you kill small animals for fun?'' Samey asked after quickly regaining her bright posture.

''No. I dissected a few frogs during science classes at best.'' I uninterestedly answered.

''Did you have bedwetting issues as a child and preteen?'' Samey continued right after I answered. Bedwetting issues? Killing of small animals? She's checking if I possessed the Macdonald Triad, a collection of trait that hints sociopathic behavior in a child, which might eventually lead into becoming psychopathic. If she asks about setting things on fire, then I'll have the confirmation I need.

''Don't be embarrassed, this stays between you and me!'' Samey assured me after I remained quiet for a few seconds. I quietly snorted, this stays between you, me and every magazine interested in the juicy details of our therapy.

''No.''

''Did you had the urge to set things on fire?'' Samey conclusively asked.

''Again, no.'' I boringly answered. She's checking it, didn't I think so?

''Let's get back to the present. How is life in here?''

''I eat, I dispose of bodily waste to say it politely, I sleep, and eventually, I die. like your life, but mine is forcibly confined to a few hundreds of square meters I have to share with other inmates.'' I numbly replied, a feeble attempt to make her feel bad.

''Aha.'' Samey nodded, my answer didn't bother her in any way as she wrote down something on her clipboard. ''Speaking of which, how are the other inmates?''

I pull myself upright and face her while sitting on the lounge chair. ''In the cell to my left is a deranged mother who cannibalized her own children and possibly wants to eat my heart out, and in the cell to my right we have a women called Crazy Eyes who cackles crazily and bangs on the wall all day. And when we meet in the shower, we get a little intimate...'' I formulated, I paused when I saw Samey smile a little brighter, I cock my head slightly as I wonder if she thought what I think she thought. ''…Against my will.'' I added, and I saw her cringe in reply. [1]

Yes, she thought it. No matter how much she matured, she's still a little naïve. Good.

''So to be brief, I'm literally stuck between psychopaths. '' I concluded as I rubbed my nails a little.

''Yes.'' Samey mumbled as she again nodded her head and tried to write something on her clipboard, but her pen malfunctioned and she duck into her briefcase to get another. After having put several things from the briefcase on the table, I noticed a business card laying about and I inconspicuously took it.

'Samantha DeSorrento, psychologist. Practice located at 1560 Fallwind Drive. Hamilton.' Based on their surname and the suspicion that Samey lives in or near Hamilton, which has a large amount of citizens with Italian origins, Samey (And Amy for that matter) have Italian roots. Hmm, never really expected that. Both my parents have Austrian blood, my mother additionally having Irish's, hence her and my reddish hair. It's very stereotypical, but it's true. I quickly hide the card in the between my shoe and my heel (Where I often hide small things), I might just need it later on. Samey got up and looked at me.

''And do you in any way relate to these 'psychopaths'?''

I subtly glared at her as I honestly was a little offended by even the implication that I was like the other inmates. But then I got an idea.

I shouldn't make Samey angry, Samey should believe that she made me angry! And now is the best time.

''Are you insinuating that I'm one of them?''I hissed at her as I violently shoot up and stomp towards Samey, she stands up and slowly walks back with her hand reaching into her jacket to keep it on the panic button while stretching out another arm to me as a defense reflex. She's paying attention, now I only have to convince her that I'm offended beyond control.

''No, I-'' Samey tried to retort. I could physically harm her, but I don't think that that'd be good for my reputation, so I instead grab her suitcase of the ground and violently throw it in her direction. This was the final straw for Samey and she rapidly pressed the panic button a few times. As expected, several guards came storming in and slammed me into the wall to cuff me and to take me away. I glanced over to Samey 1 last time before I was taken out of the room and I saw her looking at the mess I made, greatly irritated.

This hopefully has been the last time we've met, this escape plan was a bit too desperate for my liking. I just hope I didn't execute it too well because that might make me a true psychopath in her eyes.

* * *

**This chapter was harder to write than it appears to be!**

**[1] A subtle reference to the TV series Orange Is The New Black, where Crazy eyes is a inmate who...Well, to keep it T rated, likes getting intimate too.**

**I hope you liked it despite what I said in the other author note!**

**Until next update!**

**;:J,**

**L.W.**


	3. Solace

**The 5 Steps To Freedom**

**Derp. This was actually placeholder text, but as you can see, it stayed!**

**SargantEpsilon: Oh, after this chapter you'll know why Samey doesn't have to win Scarlett's trust anymore.**

**Hugh Takinamee: Like I told Applause, thanks!**

**KaylaBow: I hope you've understood that I was talking about a platonic relationship right? Ah, you've figured that by now I think!**

**Littlespoon: Thanks! I tried to add a more significant reference, but unlike you, I haven't watched Orange Is The New Black yet.**

**NerdyNightStocker: There's no telling if Chris's in the picture! And yes, the business card has a very important (Almost lifesaving) role this chapter! Oh, Samey knows already!**

**I still need a better title for this story, preferably something with 1 word. Do you readers have any suggestions?**

**That's all for today. Less author input, more story! Hurray!**

**I have to give it a T+ today for attempted suicide.**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Solace**

* * *

Here I am yet again, in the improvised practice with Samey being the only other person in the room. She isn't smiling today, so she probably hasn't forgotten my staged anger outburst from last time.

''Scarlett, I bet you know what these are?'' Samey asked me as she flashes me some cards with inkblots on them.

''Rorschach tests. You disappoint me a little Samey, there's more proof that it doesn't work than the other way around.''

''We'll see.'' Samey answered as she sorts the cards. ''You know the drill, I show you an image and you have to say what you see in it.'' She explained before she flashed me a card with an inkblot that looked suspiciously like a moth, and I just figured another way to get out of here.

''A Rorschach test.'' I answered, deciding to be clever.

''I mean what's on the Rorschach test genius!'' She replied annoyed, tapping the card lightly.

''Inkblots.'' I answered.

Samey's eye twitched a little before she sighed tiredly and put the cards away. ''I think we should stop with your therapy.'' She announced.

''Oh really? Why?'' I responded.

Samey glared daggers at me after my response in such a way that I couldn't have imagined from her. ''Because you aren't even trying to cooperate!'' She darkly answered before she began to pack her stuff. I leaned back in the lounge chair and smiled, I am free of attention once again.

''Your mom will be sorely disappointed for sure.'' She added.

My eyes shot wide open, What did she just say?

''Wait…What?'' I confusedly asked her as I shot up.

''Your mother will be disappointed. After all, she went great lengths to get me appointed as her little girl's therapist! She believed that someone with firsthand experience should be able to help you.'' Samey explained a angrily. My heart began to race as the answer sunk in.

The media didn't appoint Samey to me, my own mother did! And I just got rid of her!

''But why didn't you tell me my mother got you appointed?'' I loudly asked her as I stood up.

''It might've influenced the therapy negatively.''

''It did influence it negatively now you didn't tell me!'' I angrily replied, making 1 step towards her. Samey stepped back and I realized that if I got too intimidating again, she'd call in the guards. And I wanted to talk this out. ''I thought that you were sent by the tabloids!''

''Why would I do that?'' Samey indignantly asked, appearing as if she was offended by the idea.

''You could get me out of prison early so that their press hawks could hound me and write about every over exaggerated little misstep I make! Because they love writing about Total Drama's little psychopath!'' I loudly explained to the point I almost yelled. I should really calm down. ''And I am NOT a psychopath.'' I calmly finished, pointing at her self-assured.

''I sincerely doubt that!'' Samey chidingly replied as she finished packing her things.

''What?!'' I furiously hissed, almost losing my temper.

''You've shown that you constantly plotted to get out of this therapy by any means necessary, let it be by attempting to drive me crazy or by faking an anger outburst. Yes I knew you faked that anger for the record! I know everything! I'm not as gullible as I used to be.'' She sternly pointed out as she glared at me again. Samey had really matured.

''After the 1st session I mentally prepared myself for other tricks. And after the 2nd session, I realized that you were deliberately trying to oppose everything and additionally that you were lying about your childhood. Your mother has given information too you know!'' Samey continued chiding me.

So she did knew I was lying.

''And beginning with this session, I hoped that you'd admit your thwarting or tell me what bothers you, but after I saw that you were still trying to get out, I gave up. And that behavior shows how callous and artful you are. Your mother believed that you weren't one, and I did too. But we were both wrong, you are just a full-blown grade-A psychopath! You belong here!'' Samey finished berating me.

''But you don't understand! I-'' I desperately tried to reason with her, but I was cut off by Samey taking her briefcase and standing up.

''Have a wicked good life Scarlett, I hope to never be a part of it again!'' She greeted me before she walked out of the room. I hung my head, I was devastated.

* * *

Several minutes later, I was brought to the recreation room. I sat at a table close to the door, sulking.

Samey didn't understand, if she had told that mom sent her beforehand, then I had accepted her help. I tried to explain it to her, but she had all right not to listen to me, after all my own paranoia drove her away. Maybe I AM a monster.

Mom wouldn't let Samey be my psychologist because the media wanted her to be. If there was one person who hated them more than I, it was mom. She got the reputation of being a bad mother, and that really hurt her. I felt guilty about that and I have no idea how I can set that right.

''Hey Neuer!'' A familiar voice calls me, I turn around to see Crazy Eyes and her lackeys standing a few feet away from me.

Great, this is just what I need while I'm being consumed by dread.

Crazy eyes was a large, dark skinned, intimidating women who had torn the sleeves off of her jumpsuit. She was called Crazy Eyes because of her wide eyes, and apparently, she didn't like that nickname. Her cronies looked like her as well, large and intimidating, but of course, not with the big eyes.

''Go away.'' I grumbled while I rest my head on my folded arms.

''Say what now?'' She replied. She was apparently offended as she spun my chair around so that I'd face her, but I just kept my arms crossed and looked away. I was in a way too gloomy mood to look at her. ''Look at me and say it again!'' She demanded as she squeezed my face with one hand, forcing her to look at me as she powerfully threw the chair away. A little too powerful because it shattered a large window next to the door. An alarm went off and Crazy Eyes let go off me. I fell on the ground and I spotted a large shard of glass laying nearby. And in a split second, I saw in that shard how I could set things right.

I must commit suicide.

If I'm dead, the press won't get to write about me anymore and won't brand mom as 'Canada's worst mother' anymore. Everything will be better, I'm 100 percent sure of that.

I quickly lunged towards the glass shard and hid it in my shoe. Crazy Eyes saw this and wanted to harass me, but luckily, a dozen wardens came storming in and cleared the recreation room. I was cuffed and searched, but Crazy Eyes going mad during her cuffing prevented the shard from being found. I was lucky again, it was as if life was encouraging my suicide.

* * *

I stare out of my window close to midnight, rain was pouring out of dark clouds and it looked like it wasn't going to stop anytime soon. Again, a fitting reflection of my mood.

I get up from my bed and put off my all my clothes. I lay the shard on my bed before I walk to the sink and turn the water on to wash myself. I've developed a certain respect for the dead over the years, I believe that bodies should look as respectful as possible, and since I am going to die soon myself, I should be too.

''This is the end, beautiful friend.'' I quietly sing to my reflection as I attempt to wash my hair. ''This is the end, my only friend, the end. Our elaborate plans, the end.'' I mumbled on as I shut the water off and get dressed. I sang an old sing of The Moors, a band my mom used to like. I found it fitting to sing it to myself, as it indeed IS the end of everything. My dreams, my plans. Other than getting into college I hoped to work in Switzerland on the big particle accelerator and maybe, meet someone to settle down with. But I got too ambitious, too desperate and I blew it all, and now I have to pay the price for it. [1]

I hear a bell tower in the distance, it's past midnight.

I sigh deeply and sit down on my bed. I pick the piece of glass up and lay it on my wrist. I'm cutting my wrists, the great amount of blood loss with make sure that I die quickly and painlessly.

Scarlett Neuer, it has been great to be you as long as it lasted. You always wondered what was on the other side and you're about to find out, on this stormy night on October the 8th 2021. I breath in deeply, my last breath of air. I'm ready.

But despite that, I can't bring myself to cut them. Perhaps the idea of slowly bleeding to death isn't painless enough. I lay the glass shard down and walk around my cell to ponder about another method. I lightly pluck at my jumpsuit and I found the way to do it…

I choke myself to death.

If I tie my jumpsuit around my throat with a powerful knot and close it, I'll eventually suffocate, I just have to repress the panic reaction my brain will send out. I stripped myself of my jumpsuit and before I begin to lay a knot in it, I spot myself in the mirror, I looked at myself and I realized that this isn't going to work either. Even if I manage to kill myself, I don't leave a very respectful body. Call it vanity but I don't want to be found dead in my underwear.

I quickly put on my jumpsuit again and stomped towards the glass shard. No more postponing! I have to do it now! In a reflex, I picked the glass shard up and lay it against my neck to slit my throat. But despite my wishes, I can't bring myself to finish it yet again! Frustrated by my cowardice, I saw 1 last way to kill myself. By stabbing myself in my heart, quick, relatively painless and I leave a respectful corpse. But before I even picked the right angle I groaned out of frustration and threw the glass against the wall, shattering it in several smaller pieces. I sat down on my bed and buried my fingers in my scalp out of pure frustration.

I can't commit suicide, even if I want to. But why? I then spotted the business card laying next to my shoes and picked it up. Perhaps I can't finish myself because I want to set things right.

* * *

The next day, after I was brought to the recreation room, I headed straight for the telephones. I had to memorize Samey's entire phone number because if the guards found me with the business card, they'd begin to ask questions as I had told them I'd phone a lawyer, and if I do, then they aren't allowed to tap off the phones. I press a combination of numbers and I desperately hope that it has been the right combination.

''Psychology practice DeSorrento. How can I help you?'' Samey's voice called from the other end of the line. I sighed in relief.

''Samey.'' I responded.

''Scarlett?'' She replied to my response, not sounding very pleased to hear me.

''Yes, I know it sounds weird.'' I admitted.

''It kind of does. How did you get my number?''

''I snatched a unattended business card of yours.'' I answered, afraid of her reaction.

''Aha.'' She suspiciously replied. I could hear the disapproval in her voice, and that the reaction I was afraid of.

''But about yesterday, can we do it over?'' I requested.

''I don't think so.'' Samey quickly shot down. Come on! I'm going through the muck for you here!

''Please Samey, I mean Samantha. I tried to commit suicide last night!'' I despondently begged her, trying to stay quiet as not to call unwanted attention from the guards.

''Why?'' She concernedly asked after a few seconds of silence.

''Because I screwed things up.'' I submissively answered.

''This better not be another way to bother me Scarlett!'' She firmly warned me.

''Would I do that to you after I tried to get you out of my life?'' I presented her. I noticed that began to sound a little desperate again.

''No, you wouldn't.'' She admitted, and I fell my desperation disappear. ''I'll see what I can do for you. You'll hear from me soon enough. Until then Scarlett.'' She greeted me.

''Yes, until then Samantha.'' I greeted back for I hung up and slid against the wall to the ground, overwhelmed by the moment. This phone call gave me a great amount of solace in what was 1 of my darkest moments. I was given a 2nd chance, and I thank science for that.

* * *

**This chapter contained 100% less implied shower rape!**

**[1] References a song by The Doors. Which, as you might guess, is called The End. I have a slight feeling that it is about suicide too.**

**So, pretty heavy chapter huh? Pretty long chapter too. Half as long as the 2 previous chapters combined.**

**Next chapter, the confessions, emotional outbursts and other things you've all been waiting for!**

**;:J,**

**L.W.**


	4. Submission

**The 5 Steps To Freedom**

**It must've been a(Comparably) long wait for this chapter!**

**Applause2014: What's beautiful about a desperate girl on the verge of suicide? I guess that's 1 of the sick curiosities of humanity, like war! Still thanks though!**

**Frank15: You know what they say, bad guys/gals love their mammas! **

**SargantEpsilon: Was it that good? For real? If it was, I got to do more stuff like that!**

**NerdyNightStocker: It's not just that, Scarlett and Samey have a lot more in common than everyone would think!**

**Now that this story is almost over, does anyone have any fun requests? Send me them!**

**Rated T because of an (Genuine) anger outburst (Containing 1 whole swear word!).**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Submission**

* * *

I woke up in a different cell with cold feet, which are perhaps the reason I woke up so early. I'm not allowed to wear shoes since I was put on suicide watch a few days ago, even though I got rid of the incriminating glass shards.

Samantha must've alerted the wardens about my suicide attempt, since the psychotherapist's oath states that every topic spoken about between a psychologist and its clients remain confidential unless the client plans to harm itself or other, then the psychologist is obliged to act to it. And I take Samantha as a very ethical psychologist. A stark contrast between now and a few days ago, when I took her for a fame mongering Hollywood therapist.

A guard comes walking in with a plate of food, my breakfast. She also hands me the utensils, plastic ones. I let the serrated edge of the knife run over the palm of my hand with no result and I glare unimpressed at the warden, who sat opposite to me, probably checking if I didn't purposely tried to choke myself to death on my. Suicide watch isn't as bad as it seems, but being constantly watched is incredibly unnerving.

* * *

After my breakfast, I was brought back to the practice. Where Samantha was waiting in the chair she always sat in.

''Scarlett.'' She warmly greeted me as if there was no friction between us.

''Hello.'' I quietly greeted. Of course I was happy to resume the therapy, but not to her extent. Not yet at least. I sat down in the other chair instead of the lounger, perhaps as a sign of attitude change.

''Are you ready for this?'' Samantha asked.

I briefly think of her question. ''Can I ask 1 more thing from you?'' I cautiously asked her.

''Go ahead!'' Samantha cheerfully answered, most likely not yet aware of the seriousness of my question.

''Do you swear on the ethical oath that everything spoken about in this room stays between you and me?'' I asked her. Samantha solemnly held her hand up and nodded. She then showed the inside of her jacket.

''As you can see, I'm not having a panic button on me, that means that I trust you with sincerely undergoing this therapy. If that trust is misplaced, say it now.'' Samantha sternly advised me, I was slightly taken aback by this response, but once again, I let it go so far that she had to say this.

''I have nothing to say.'' I replied.

We both smiled at each other as I could feel a little bond of trust forming already.

''Great! Let's start with a monologue from your point of view about how you got in here.'' Samantha said, taking a notepad.

''Okay. It began on Total Drama Pahkitew Island. There…There…'' I noticed I had great trouble continuing, and I didn't know why.

Samantha reached into her briefcase and retrieved a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. ''Here, have a cig, it lets you relax a bit.'' Samantha offered, holding the pack in front of me with 1 sticking out. I know as a matter of fact that cigarettes don't let someone relax, the nicotine gives me the idea that you're relaxed. I take the cigarette nonetheless. Samantha flicks on the lighter but stopped when she spotted something on the ceiling.

''Hold on!'' She told me before she climbed onto her chair and took the battery out of the smoke detector hanging above me.

''You offer a lot of your clients cigarettes, don't you?'' I asked her with a raised eyebrow.

''Yeah, but never more than 1.'' Samantha answered before lighting my cigarette and putting everything away. ''You know, otherwise I'll get angry calls from the local Secret Smoker League! Which has happened once already!'' She half-jokingly informed me, and we both laugh a little, which made me cough as I choked on my own smoke. Even though it was only for something small and I almost died, it has been a long time since I was humored, and it felt good. [1]

''Back on Pahkitew Island, I met Max…'' I began explaining out of the blue. Getting only a little angry at the mention of his name. This cigarette is making me really loose lipped and oppresses my fury. The nicotine is doing a good job already.

''Aha.'' Samantha nodded as she quickly wrote on her notepad.

''And my first impressions of him turned out to be accurate. Sure, I was a little surprised that he could make nifty inventions, but seeing that he failed to use them properly by forgetting something trivial as an unplugged wire proved that he was a boastful, moronic and highly incompetent wannabe. And when that buffoon takes credit for what was mostly my input, then you're getting on my wrong side!'' I explained, squeezing the cigarette lightly after I'd taken it out off of my lips.

''Hold on, let's continue on that subject!'' Samantha abruptly called, pointing her pen at me. ''Did you have those feelings in the past before Total Drama?''

I thought about her question until I remember something significant. '' When I was 15, I went to a boarding school back then, I was assigned to do a project about bioluminescence with my roommate, Margaret Bannister.''

''Lannister?'' Samantha asked slightly confused. Funny, everyone back at school made that mistake too. Did her name sound that alike? [2]

''No, Bannister.'' I corrected her. ''It was the day before we had give our presentation of the project, we had worked day and night to make it pitch perfect. She came to congratulate me on a successful partnership. And you know what she told me right after?'' I asked her with the fury building up in my voice.

''No.''

''That I was the perfect assistant and that she's giving the presentation! While I had done most of the work!'' I answered before I angrily banged my fist on the chair. That hurt.

The nicotine has left my system. Samantha, please be prepared for what might come.

''I see, interesting.'' Samantha quietly replied. ''And how did you deal with that? Because you were obviously very angry.''

''I created a potent laxative overnight and spiked her breakfast with it.'' I plainly answered as if it was no big deal. I saw Samantha's eyes widen and perhaps I heard her quietly gasp as well. ''So just after she had welcomed the public viewing our presentation, the laxative kicked in and she dashed off the stage and I gave the presentation, but not before I made a snide remark about how nervous she must've been.'' I finished explaining, and I couldn't help but feeling a little ashamed about it.

''And what happened after the presentation?'' Samantha asked, obviously a little bit disgusted.

''Not much. The project received an A and when I returned to our room, Margaret was taking a shower. So I think I've made the laxative a little too strong.'' I told her, chuckling at a slightly frowning Samantha after my stupid attempt to do it off as a joke. I could feel the blood running in my cheeks.

''Aha.'' Samantha responded, the disapproval notable in her voice, making me feel a little worse. ''And what would happen if you feel like you didn't get your revenge?''

''What happened on the show, that's what happens if I don't get it. I only get more frustrated, and this frustration, desperation and a certain need for acknowledgement eventually led me to…You know, almost blowing up an island, just to show that Max couldn't have done anything.''

Samantha glared at me with a raised eyebrow. ''So you almost blew up an island just to prove that you're better than someone else? I'm not meant to judge, but that's still kind of cruel.'' Samantha casually noted.

Despite her being as polite as possible. I began to breath with gradually more fury. How does Samantha know what's cruel? Has she been with me my entire life?! No! She knows nothing about cruelty! ''Cruel?'' I grumble. ''Cruel?! You don't know what's cruel!'' I practically shouted right after.

''Scarlett, settle down. I-''

''Do you know what's cruel? rotting away in here, where the food tastes like the shit we crapped out the day before, being outside might get you your organs stolen and showering gives you gynophobia while others gets to go to college and come here to rub it into my face!'' I shouted at Samantha, telling her exactly how I felt as I grabbed her by her collar while she looked relatively unfazed by my anger. ''Locked up in here after a soviet style show trial, only without the relieving execution! That's cruel!''

''You know what else is cruel?'' I furiously asked her as I let go of her and began stomping around the room. ''A little girl whose parents are always too busy with work to notice that her brother pesters her in any way possible without him ever getting punished! A girl whose mother only tells her bedtime stories during holidays, if she's lucky of course! Being a 4 year old child…'' I shout in complete anger as tears begin to form and my shouting slowly turns into sobbing while I sit back in the chair. ''…Who has so many things to tell, but has no one who listens to her!'' I finished, letting my head fall on my folded arms, which laid on my legs as I cry silently. Those things always bothered me, but until now, I never realized how much. But why am I telling it now? Do I trust Samantha this much?

It remained quiet between me and Samantha for a while as the only sound in the room was my sobbing. Samantha then calmly rubbed my back. ''Wasn't that relieving or what?'' She soothingly asked me. ''Your mother suspected something like that, that's partially why I expected a lengthy answer when I first asked you about your childhood.'' She explained as she stopped rubbing my back. ''And despite all of that, I have a feeling that you still have a lot of respect for your mother.'' Samantha noted.

''Of course.'' I replied before I had to sniff my nose, Samantha directly offering me a tissue, which I accepted. ''Thank you. After all, she's my mother. She did what she could to provide for me and without her I wouldn't have been born!'' I answered, doesn't anyone respect their mothers? Or at least those who act in the maternal capacity? And then they call me cruel. Tss.

''But why would you join Total Drama to win the million dollars when both your parents have well paid careers?'' Samantha asked slightly confused before she took a file out of her briefcase and scrolled through it. ''Unless something changed, a nuclear engineer and a astronautic must earn a lot of money together!'' She remarked. Judging by the thickness of that file, mom must've given her a lot of information about my parents and me. [3]

''I've always tried to impress them, but their impressive careers raised the bar so high! I wanted to pay for the best available educations all by myself to further impress them.'' I answered as I glumly looked at the floor.

Samantha smiled warmly at me. ''I know how hard peer pressure is.'' She supportively told me. Rubbing my shoulder again. ''After all, I had Amy. She was always the twin with the better grades, the better skills. So for a time, I thought: why would I even try to impress them? But you know what I found out shortly after the show Scarlett? That your parents don't care about that, as long as they know that you're doing your best!'' She assured me, I weakly smiled at her as I realized why my mother wanted Samantha to be my psychologist.

We are much more alike than we thought we are.

''Thanks.'' I quietly but gratefully told her, still a little overcome by the emotions.

''And with that, I think I have a accurate diagnose.'' Samantha announced as she stopped writing and clicked her pen. ''You have serious attention issues as a result of mild neglect as a child. You want people to acknowledge your accomplishments and if you feel someone else gets said acknowledgements, you might go to disproportionate levels to justify yourself. The same goes for situations where you feel like someone did you injustice and get away with it. Yet I take that your regretful disposition towards the actions in your life regarding these traits as a sign that you want to cooperate to help with these issues.'' Samantha formulated with a great level of professionalism I never expected to hear from her.

''Absolutely.'' I interrupted her.

''A perennial therapy is the most effective option. And if the first sessions book significant progress, I predict that you might be released before Christmas to slowly begin with a restart of your life.'' Samantha concluded, smiling at me.

Unbelievable. A week ago, I was rotting away in my cell with a cynical attitude towards everything and especially the day of my release, and now I'm almost excited to hear that I might be released before the end of the year. I don't care that I might be stuck to therapy for years, it's only beneficial to me and I feel comfortable with the therapist, finally. Despite all of that, I can't be enthusiastic just yet, as the 2 foremost subjects I was cynical about back then still haunt me.

''But what about the press hounds? They'll be all over me!'' I worriedly asked her.

''That won't be so bad. After about a year, they left us to be, and then I really mean left us to be. We were practically forgotten!'' Samantha lively explained.

''And what about my education? My freedom won't be worth anything to me if I can't learn. And there'll definitely be some people who still remember me, and if a few people do, then-'' I said as I gradually begin to panic again at the thought alone.

''I know a nice little community college that's just the place for you. They have experience in dealing with having former TV personalities, as I got my degree there too. We can work something out there.'' Samantha assured me.

''Not Amy?'' I curiously asked.

''No, she went to a police academy instead. Last time I heard she was part of a special police squad in Ottawa, arresting dangerous suspects, raiding buildings and such.''

''That's nice.'' I mumbled as I nodded my head slightly. Amy went for a more physical approach of the law while Samantha went for the sensitive one, how typical.

''What's even nicer is that she's far away from here and I only get to see her during holidays!'' She informed me rather humored, of which I could cast a small grin as well even though I couldn't tell if she was joking or if she was happy that she was relatively far away. I wonder how their current relationship is. But just as I wanted to ask, someone then knocked on the door.

''Time's almost up doc.'' A warden called. Already? How long have we been in here?

''Alright.'' Samantha replied.

''Thanks for everything in advance Samantha. And sorry for everything too, from the deceptions to the outrage just then.'' I humbly apologized.

''That's okay. I've been shouted at my whole life!'' She sweetly responded, despite the slightly dark implications behind the response. Samantha stood up and knocked on the door, which the warden unlocked and opened to cuff me and take me away.

''Until next week Scarlett!'' She greeted me.

''Yes. Until then.'' I calmly greeted back, nodding my head slightly at her as I was taken out of the room, for the first time with a very content feeling.

* * *

**[1] Just because Smokers Anonymous might be a registered name, I came up with my own anti-smoking organization!**

**[2] A reference to the house with the same name from Game Of Thrones and additionally the books based on the series.**

**[3] I indeed had to think around this a little. Because really, I let her parents have these careers but if your parents have such well paid jobs, would you risk live, limb and self-respect to win a million dollars to fund your study while they make that amount in a year without even trying?**

**Only 1 chapter left, and that's the epilogue! It's going to be a short chapter containing a few insignificant scenes of Scarlett pulling her life back together. From the day that she's released from the clink to the day the effects of her therapy are tested to the limit.**

**Tot over hopelijk 1 week!**

**Me for MP (Talk about arrogance!),**

**L.W.**


	5. Epilogue

**The 5 Steps To Freedom**

**Chapter title c-c-c-combo breaker!**

**SargantEpsilon: 'Bows'**

**Dominos-pizza: Don't wait any longer!**

**Frank15: There you strike a curious concept. Because Margaret wasn't some run-of-the-mill character I created for this purpose, she's going to be featured as a new contestant in 1 of my upcoming stories. Shameless advertising aside, I imagine their relationship to be a little like a shark and a terrified remora, that's all I can say right now.**

**NerdyNightStocker: You strike a good point there, but in Samantha's defense, she was 1-upped by her sister after being dominated her whole life and that has to be some justification for Samantha's actions.**

**So, now that we've reached the final chapter. There's 1 last thing I ask from you besides your attention. If you plan on reviewing, please tell me what I did good, what I did wrong, and what you'd have done different both writing and story wise. And stay realistic! Don't suck up because you're dealing with the likes of a god here!**

**Alright just scrap that god part and you'll understand.**

**Still rated T just because the other chaps are.**

* * *

**Chapter 5: Epilogue**

* * *

Today is the day I wouldn't have expected to look forward to. The day of my release.

I'm sitting in my cell, waiting for the wardens to come pick me up. I'm nervous, nervous because I don't know who's waiting outside of the gates and nervous because Samantha isn't around, in fact, she isn't even in Canada at the moment. She went on holiday to Australia with her boyfriend. She didn't say who he was but she couldn't stop gushing about his way with words, his green eyes and light brown hair. I have a suspicion, but honestly, I don't want to know if that suspicion is correct or not. [1]

I don't know if I ever get a boyfriend, or whatever you're supposed to call them for someone my age. I'm not expecting to have one not just because of my criminal record attracting the wrong kind of people, but I also never made any work of it because I felt like I was too smart to enjoy the concept of love, as it are in reality no more than hormones instead of some otherworldly feeling. Despite that I'd get a little sad sometimes when I see a happy couple and the I'd wish I wasn't so smart and could just enjoy life through a simpler point of view.

Returning from trailing off... Of course I was upset when Samantha told me that she'd be away during this day, but she said that it was part of the therapy that I had to leave this prison by myself. I'm not sure if she was telling the truth or that she just used it as an excuse, but either way, maybe she's right. I shouldn't want her to hold my hand through everything. Despite that, Samantha was so nice to leave me a set of clothes for today, which I'm already wearing, as I had outgrown my last outfit before I was bound to wearing prison jumpsuits.

I tried reading 1 of the books from the prison library to quell my anxiety, but it was incredibly hard, I need glasses to read, despite that, I tried reading a few books the past month despite the risk of further damaging my eyes.

After I realized reading didn't help to calm me down, I laid it down beside me and stood up from my bed. I looked into the mirror above my sink. I had put back my hair in a bun for the first time in eons, while I was here, I couldn't possibly care less about how I looked. There were weeks where I'd look messy and reek horribly too. My mother would often worry about that I didn't care for myself well enough when she was visiting, but I was in prison, if you appeared prim and proper, you'd stand out and become a target. Other than that, I regularly just didn't feel like keeping myself clean and tidy. But since a few days, I've regained the desire to look representative again. I take another look in the mirror and come to the conclusion that I perhaps should do my hair in a low bun instead.

Then I heard someone unlock the door, it was time.

I looked around my cell 1 last time before I walked out of it and let the wardens escort me away.

* * *

Half an hour later, I was on my way to the main gate after I signed my release papers and a stern speech from the principal.

At this point I was so agitated that I legs were shaking. Who was waiting for me on the other end of the main gate? No one? Everyone? Or any amount in between? I gulped and sweated as a guard opened the small door and lets me through. I closed my eyes until the door behind has been shut and locked.

Standing outside of the prison, I could feel the cold December wind blowing into my face. I expected a lot of cameras taking pictures, but I hear nothing except for the wind. I open my eyes and see only 2 figures standing next to a familiar car on the other end of the parking lot, namely my parents. I look strikingly like my mom, maybe because the genes in my mother's family are dominant but maybe also because she always wears her hair in a bun too. My father…I think that my father looks a bit like the man who is credited as the inventor of the satellite. I have very few facial traits from him. And to be honest, I'm pretty content with that. My brother Robert is not present, which hurts me a little. I wanted to apologize on the spot.

I lightly tugged my pale yellow winter coat before I folded my hands together and laid on my stomach as I slowly walked towards my parents, trying not to slip over the thin layer of snow on the parking lot. Even though the anxiety of being hogged by paparazzi has obviously faded away, I was still scared about what they would think of me. Nonetheless, I could force a small smile to appear as I walked towards them. However, as I stand in front of them, my smile quickly faded, shame and sadness took over and I began to cry.

''I'm so sorry!'' I sobbed, covering up my eyes and looking away. Mom embraced and pulled me close to her, something I didn't expect.

''It's okay. Everyone makes mistakes. So did we.'' She soothingly whispered as she ran a hand through my hair, which comforted me ever since I was a toddler.

''That's not true! You only provided for me! I went overboard to prove my self-centered point! And with that I dragged your reputation as caring parents through the dirt!'' I responded.

''That'll pass over.'' Mom assuringly whispered as she softly buried her mouth into my hair.

''But-''

''Ssh.'' My mom silenced me as I tried to reason. Maybe she's right, we shouldn't talk right now, the more I say the more I sadden myself.

''Now, let's go home before we catch a common cold and becomes a deadly pneumonia!'' My mom jokingly said after some seconds. I can't help but snicker, her intelligent humor always cheers me up. My father holds the door open for me and I get in the car. I stare out of the window, the sun is slowly breaking through the clouds, which is once more a accurate reflection of my mood. I should look at the sky more often.

* * *

Some months later, I was sitting on a bench in a park covered in a unusually thick layer of February snow.

Currently, the therapy focuses on removing my desire for revenge, and I'm making ample progress. On Samantha's advice, I had taken a dog, a Schnauzer from the kennel named Mop, saying that it benefits my therapy. But other than the therapeutic ends of having a dog, I realized that having a dog just as a companion suits me. I come outside more often, which I consider a small benefit as well as I hardly left my room when I was a teenager, and when I did, I headed straight to the library.

She also advised me to get some hobbies that have nothing to do with my current interests. I was surprised to hear that Samantha was a member of the local gun club, though we both agreed that I shouldn't try that out as the chances are simply too high that someday something will go awfully wrong. I'm still working on that.

I'm not going to look for an education until it's spring, I'm enjoying my inner peace too much to get stressed about things like that right now. I leaned back and sighed in relief.

Life is good.

I looked at Mop digging through the thick layer of snow. It amused me to see such a small dog taking on what looks like to be an impossible task. I stared into the distance and I spotted a dog I believe was a Belgian shepherd, nothing special about that. I gasped loudly though when I saw who held the dog's leash.

Max. [2]

My anger boils up as I see him strolling over the path, still having that quirky frown and smug evil smile etched on his face. I stood up with clenched fists. He mentally pushed me over the edge landing me 7 years in jail and he disturbed my future. I looked around, there's no one nearby, I'm going to settle this, no witnesses! I wanted to stomp towards him until I was interrupted by a single bark from Mop (His head covered in snow). I looked down at him and saw that he had taken his leash off the bench and had laid it down in front of my feet. Happily wiggling its tail, he had no idea how angry I was…

Or had he?

For some reason, I put the leash around Mop's collar before I glared back at Max, slowly disappearing out of sight. I sigh miserably before I begin walking away from him, being closely followed by Mop. As we walked, I feel my fury fading. How did I oppress the urge to walk up to Max and do unmentionable things? I thought about that as we slowly strolled through the park.

Perhaps…Perhaps I didn't do anything just because of the therapy, but Mop made me consider that I'm happier with my current life than I would be with my life if I won Pahkitew Island, despite my 7 year prison term. I'm being helped to be at peace with my demons, I'm valuing the smaller things much more than I was back then and I don't suffer under the stress of peer pressure at all. In fact, I found the concept where the turn of events led me to becoming some sort of super professor who devotes her entire life to science and teaching seems incredibly…Stuffy lately. I have the feeling that I've only began to truly balance between what I want and what I can since I'm out of prison, and that tranquil balance is worth a lot to me. I bend down and picked Mop up to cuddle him. Mop did knew how angry I was, and he knew just the way to tell me that that was unjustified! Dogs are so much smarter than many think.

I put Mop back on the ground and I realize that maybe, just maybe, I should be a bit thankful to Max too for putting my life on the track I didn't know would work out the best for me.

* * *

**The main problem with this story? It's too short!**

**[1] Can you guess who it is? Chris it is not (Hint hint)!**

**[2] A subtle reference to Dr. Evil from Austin Powers. You get it? Max, BELGIAN shepherd, go figure out that joke.**

**So, there. My first completed story 'Confetti and a party horn'!**

**I'm already working on a different story featuring Topher years after Pahkitew Island, ambitiously trying to become a major figure in Canada's TV world, at any costs. Do you like this concept? Any tips or suggestions on the matter? PM me! I love to receive them!**

**I hoped you enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing and planning it, and you'll hear from me soon!**

**Saw Boliniz (Which is, as far as I am informed, Kazakh for goodbye),**

**L.W.**


End file.
